


Battleship!

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They like their games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battleship!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squidgie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/gifts).



> a comment fic originally posted [here](http://esteefee.livejournal.com/119355.html?thread=2384443#t2384443).

"You sank my battleship!"  Rodney cries, his voice echoing through the mess.  
  
They can't play the Game anymore so they are reduced to playing _Battleship!_ It's pathetic. Rodney would much rather code digital Battleship so they can play on big screens with louder explosions and CG effects, but John tells Rodney no way, he knows Rodney would cheat like a cheating cheater. Which is a lie, of course it is.  
  
They're playing at their favorite table, and John's boots keep bumping against Rodney's toes, and finally John says "Sorry, need to stretch out," and sticks his feet under Rodney's chair. Rodney wants to be irritated except he's not really irritated because he can't be sure but he thinks he can feel the bare skin of John's shin rubbing against his ankle every time John shifts a little, frowning in thought down at his board.  
  
"You're not allowed to move your boats," Rodney says quickly. There's no way he's getting a hard-on from feeling John's heretofore untouched _shin_ for God's sake.  
  
"They're called 'ships.' As in 'battleships,'" John drawls, the corner of his mouth smirking up in that stupid, smirky way it does.  
  
And Rodney hates him, truly, seriously, because there's exactly one slot left on his submarine before it's toast, and then all he has left is his dinky patrol boat. He should have paid for the deluxe version.  
  
All Rodney knows is, if John doesn't stop dragging that little red peg back and forth across his lower lip, and then biting on it thoughtfully, all while swaying his leg back and forth so Rodney can feel the crisp hairs of John's shin rubbing against his ankle, Rodney is going to burst a blood vessel in his left temporal lobe.  
  
Right now.  
  
"B-22," Rodney blurts out.  
  
John's face falls a little too dramatically.  
  
"Aw. You sank my battleship." John takes the peg and bends over his board.  
  
Rodney rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes. And now you only have, what? A destroyer, a sub, and a patrol boat."  
  
John grins cheekily.  
  
Narrowing his eyes, Rodney says, "You're altogether too good at hiding things, you know that?"  
  
John's face goes still. Then he leans back, his leg rubbing against Rodney's beneath the table.  
  
"Only if you aren't looking," John says, his eyes serious for once.  
  
The moment hangs. John swipes his tongue over his lower lip and breaks first, looking down at the board.  
  
Rodney swallows hard and then carefully shifts his feet so his other leg traps John's between his. He gives it a squeeze.  
  
"Hit," John rasps, taking another red peg from the bag and sticking it in his mouth.  
  
"Oh. Um." Rodney is already fumbling to fold the game closed. "We'll just continue this in my quarters, I think?"  
  
John smiles slowly, the peg caught between his full lips.  
  
They never do finish the game.  
  
  
 _End._


End file.
